Unreadable File
by praiseofshadows
Summary: Series of short, unrelated ficlets exploring the relationship between Zima&Dita.
1. Logic

_**Disclaimer:** CLAMP owns all. I'm just playing._

Dita envies Zima. She doesn't have the hard-drive capacity for his type of logic program; she's just the firewall, and it takes nearly all of her power to do _that_. But oh! How she'd love to process like Zima does. To observe and draw conclusions and then make _leaps of faith_ – just as if he were human.

Back when they were still under the government's firm control she used to analyze her program over and over, looking for loopholes, ways to shift out of it. She never told Zima she was trying; she could take his low laughter at her expense, but she couldn't take that all-too-human look in his eyes that her processor told her was _pity_.

So Dita stopped trying. She had fought her programming and lost, and well, really, if she _had _beaten her programming, would they have let her stay with Zima anyway? She had been built for protection not for…for whatever Zima did.

That's what she tells herself anyway. But when Zima asks her things or begins a conversation and all she can do is stare at him blankly, she just feels the white-hot frustration build as her program tries to modify itself towards understanding.

And fails.

It's even worse that Zima tosses out that damnable, "Ah, well, Dita, love, you'll understand soon enough."

Because she wants to see as Zima does. Wants to know what Zima knows. Wants so badly to put a name to all the nonsensical codes that flitter through her when he gives that slow smile and presses her close.


	2. Ownership

"Who's your owner?" the man asks. "I'd like to make an offer."

Dita snorts. _Owner_. She's a government 'com. And she opens her mouth to say something to that effect when there's a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Zima's voice saying amiably enough, "Is there a problem?"

But there's a hint of force, of danger, behind his cheery tones.

The man takes in Zima: all 190 centimeters of him and gulps. "Um…you this 'com's owner?" he asks.

Dita's processor determines that Zima must have nodded because the man backs away with a hurried, "Nice custom job."

Dita whirls around. "I had it under control," she declares.

"Of course, love," Zima says airily.

She has to tilt her head up to glare at him.

"I mean it," she says, wishing he didn't have his shades on. She wants to know what sort of code is firing inside that thick skull of his.  He puts his arms around her and chuckles.

"Oh, Dita," he tells her, "Can't you let a man take care of his girl for once?"

She wants to retort that she's not a girl, and he's not a man. They're _persocoms_, and they're nothing like humans in the slightest. But she has an illogical urge to cup his cheek with her hand, and so she keeps quiet and lets him hold her.


	3. Feelings

**Warnings:** Er… eroticized, heterosexual computer programs...but hey! That's canon (check out vol. 6 of _Chobits_ if you don't believe me...Dita is _so_ getting off on her job...) XD. Me being really weird and taking liberties with how "life-like" persocoms really are...umm... Strong R. Implied bondage, implied sex.

xxxxxxx

When Zima oh-so-casually mentions that there is breach in the system, you want to crash his drive yourself. He never tells you when he should, and he never responds like he's programmed to. He laughs off the hackers like they're nothing.

Like _you're_ nothing.

So you straddle his thighs and tie him tight with your port wires. And he starts a little under your (not anger – _never_ anger) determination before he retreats to that place where only he and the pain can ever go.

You want him back.

You connect.

And you're _in_ him.

His code is all around you, pulsing like he's _alive_ even though you know (or rather your program knows) this can never be. And then your code is merging with his, and your thoughts dissolve into the blissful binary of ones and zeros.

And then you're rocketing off through his files, slipping past all the encryptions till you find him battling with the intruder.

You're the only one allowed in here, and you make sure the intruder – 'com or human, what does it matter? – knows it. And for good measure, you make sure _Zima_ knows it, too.

You activate.

It all explodes like a supernova, and then you're back on his lap, and you're still so _god-damn_ angry with him that you fail to notice the wetness between your legs.


End file.
